I've been saying 'fax me' as a joke for years and now I have thousands of faxes to respond to

Dear family and friends,

I regret to inform you that you may not be seeing me around much this summer.

As I'm sure all of you know, I have been lightheartedly saying "fax me!" instead of "call me!" or "text me!" or occasionally "goodnight, I love you", and things have really come to a head.

I have four thousand, three hundred and seventy two faxes to respond to and NO idea what a fax is.

Listen, you all know I'm a fun guy. This fax thing was just one of my jokes! Was it funny? No, not particularly. I can admit that. But it became a sort of catchphrase for me after the 2012 camping trip when I said it to every fallen tree we came across. THAT was funny. Sarah loved it, and the rest of the gang was indifferent. That was a huge win for me.

But now I am in hell of my own making. I went to the library this morning hoping the librarian could help, or at least tell me what a fax is! But when I told her I had thousands of faxes to respond to, she thought I was joking. She just started laughing really hard, almost screaming, grabbing her stomach, banging on the counter. It was by far the biggest laugh I've gotten out of this whole fax bit since 2012. So I didn't correct her. In a way, she was right for laughing.

So I'm back home. Sitting in the middle of my living room surrounded by half-empty coffee mugs. Wow. I just said "half-empty". Listen to me! That's not like me at all. I'm a glass-half-full type of guy, the life of the party, the optimist, the open-heart, the jokester. You all know that.   

Now look at me, I'm covered in tears! I JUST WANTED YOU ALL TO LIKE ME. I didn't want you to fax me! WHAT IS A FAX AND HOW DO I RESPOND? Another fax? A call? A letter? Just a nod of acknowledgement?

I wrote the numbers from all the faxes I've received on this fitted bed sheet (God knows I'm not sleeping) and now I'm going to burn it. This is not a usual practice and no one suggested I do this, but I am so lost.

I will put the ashes from the bed sheet (God KNOWS I'm not sleeping) into thousands of envelopes and have them pizza-delivered to each of you by morning. Some of you should expect to receive hundreds of these.

I'm sorry for everything. I will never make a funny joke for years ever again.

Sincerely,

Jacob Watherver

Fax me at 1-800-lol

Now how on earth do I email this thing....

ERROR

Ah, damn. Let me just —

A LOT MORE ERRORS//////THE SOUND OF FLAMES

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